


Day 34 - Buried Alive

by Anarion



Series: An almost gravitational pull    (former '365 days of 221Bs' series) [34]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 18:39:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anarion/pseuds/Anarion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>He was lying flat on his stomach.</b>
</p><p>As a writing exercise for me, Atlinmerrick and I came up with the ‘365 days of 221Bs’ challenge: I am going to write a 221B each day for a year (meaning 365 in total). Every 221B will be based on a prompt given by Atlin on the same day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 34 - Buried Alive

He was lying flat on his stomach.

“Stop moving.”

John was only half-conscious but Sherlock’s voice – somewhat muffled – came from somewhere next to his left ear. He opened one eye and could see exactly nothing. He didn’t bother to open the other one.

He couldn’t feel his left arm, so he tried shifting his weight and turn around. Something was pressing down on him.

“I said ‘Stop moving.’” Sherlock’s voice was clearer now.

John grumbled and tried moving again. Sherlock’s hand slid over his shoulder and pressed him back down.

“Are you listening?”

“Not really. I can’t feel my left arm.”

“I can. It’s pressed into my stomach.”

“I need to move it to get the blood flowing again.”

“Not a priority right now.”

“Yeah, Sherlock, it kind of is. Let me turn around.”

“No.”

“This is ridiculous. What are you? Five?”

“I’m _comfortable_.”

“Isn’t that nice...”

“You always chide me for not sleeping enough. Now that I am you’re not content either.”

“You’re not sleeping. You’re talking to me.”

“Irrelevant.”

“Sherlock. I promise you can lie down on me again in a minute. Please let me move.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

“Fine.”

The weight disappeared and John turned around. A second later, Sherlock’s head resting on his shoulder again, John’s feet suddenly went cold. 

“And _stop stealing my blanket_!”

**Author's Note:**

> The promt was 'pillow'.


End file.
